


And the Wave Above Me

by Elleth



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Comfort Sex, Conflicted Loyalties, F/F, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:25:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleth/pseuds/Elleth
Summary: The Valar call the Elves of Aman to prepare for the War of Wrath. Amid fraught Telerin politics, Anairë is conflicted.





	And the Wave Above Me

**Author's Note:**

> Begun for Femslash Bingo 2016 for the prompts: 
> 
> **July 15: N22 and O37**
> 
> **Book Title:** Fall on Your Knees  
>  **Emotions:** Kindness, Defeat  
>  **NSFW:** Oral Sex  
>  **Lyrics and Poetry:** "Bring wings to the weak and bring grace to the strong / May all evil stumble where it flies in the world"
> 
> Finished - finaly - for Legendarium Ladies April 2017. It's also my 100th fic on AO3, and my first proper Tolkien fic in ages after I felt like I was slipping out of the Tolkien fandom. Hopefully there'll be more fics revisting Middle-earth, soon.

The wet sand at the waterline shifted under the weight of Anairë's kneeling form, and a wave rushed up around her feet, tugged on the thin fabric of the shift she wore, and pulled back out to sea, taking with it the sting of salt and cool water before the next onrush came and brought it back.

The waves were growing higher with the tide. Some rose above Anairë before they broke. 

By the time she picked herself up the morning was almost past, and she was soaked to the bone. A salt tang lay thick on her tongue. She had pleaded with Uinen and the sea all morning. 

Anairë's wet nightshift clung to her legs as she followed the curve of the beach to the cliff, where steps in the rock were leading up to Eärwen's open balcony above the waterline. They were slippery with spray and algae, but in four centuries in Alqualondë, Anairë had learned where to set her foot to not slide, and her dancer's grace did aught to keep her upright. The quarters were empty when she let herself in and, dripping a trail of salt water, crossed to the bed; from the looks of the sheets Eärwen had tossed restlessly for a while after Anairë had fled, before she had had to rise to determine whether the Teleri were to go to war. 

Regardless of Anairë's shivering, the cool sea air and the cooler water had done what she hoped; the racing of her heart calmed into a murmur under Uinen's waves. Her abject, speechless terror had faded, and all the interjections she hadn't spoken out loud in the morning's argument - _I will not lose you, too! I will not be widowed twice, or make you a widow, for if you take the fleet east then I will go with you, and who can say whether either of us survive this war! Will you make the same mistake as Nolofinwë thinking you can best the Dark Lord and end trampled and broken? I forbid it, I cannot bear this, Eärwen, my queen and wife, I beg_ \- had gone behind her teeth, no longer on her lips, and before Eärwen returned from council she would be able to swallow them down. 

Anairë stood in thought. More water pooled around her feet; she had brought half the sea in with her, it seemed.

The missive that had been at the root of the morning's altercation, written in gold lettering on a scroll of deep blue parchment, lay crumpled and with flaking gold ink on Eärwen's pillow, but Anairë dared not hope that Eärwen would dishonour the will of the Elder King in the same way. What impulse made her reach out for it she couldn't say, but her wet fingertips came away golden, the words of greeting she'd brushed across now illegible. She dropped the stiff material back onto the pillow, cradling her hand as though she'd burned herself. 

She wanted to believe that the Valar would not let them come to harm, but she could not fathom a war without it, and necessity did nothing to ease her fear. 

When, in the wake of the Darkening, the Noldor had requested aid, the Teleri had rebuked them - for their own sakes out of their ancient friendship, but even removed as Alqualondë was from Taniquetil, the Teleri had not dared disobey the Valar then, and paid in blood for their obedience. And now messengers had come by their grace and power, Anairë's own great-grandson with Eärwen's kinswoman Elwing for his wife, who had flown as a bird bringing a Silmaril to safety, while on the other shore the sons of Fëanáro wrought scarce less ruin than Moringotto. 

The demand for obedience was issued openly this time, not merely assumed and heeded. 

And Eärwen had a reckless streak - in many ways, her queenship had, instead of tempering it, made it more pronounced. Her father had, grief-stricken, abdicated the crown into his daughter's hands after the slaughter, and with two of her brothers lying dead, Eärwen had felt the need to prove herself a thousand times over again through the trials that even the Blessed Realm held for them. 

It had taken very little to upend the peace and healing of the Blessed Realm time and again, even after the Darkening and the famine that had followed it had been alleviated. Eärwen claimed that her foresight had never been strong and that she was not gifted in spiritual matters, but even so she received dreams out of Exile, of dungeons and the jaws of wolves, and suffocating fires. Anairë herself had had her share of them, and they had long since become a sad plague to many families, especially among the Noldor. The only choice had been to take desperate, unhappy pride those dreams, as proof of the strength of a bond between loved ones that had overcome even the ban upon the Exiles. 

Anairë did not think the Valar would let so much misery of the Outer Lands enter Aman on purpose, and she knew they could not prevail on Elvish minds by force without breaking them, but the understanding how all these dreams were, ultimately, portends of action came suddenly to her. And more than that - with it came, expressed by many, a wish for revenge. It left her reeling, reaching for the bedpost in support. Eärendil and Elwing had come to plead grace, and Ulmo had given Elwing wings while she was at her weakest. The Silmaril was what had delivered them safely to shore of Aman, to bring not hope but the final measure of desperation and defeat, and a confirmation of the doom that had been proclaimed in Araman. 

The messengers had come at the right time, bearing the right tidings. The Valar would have their army.

Anairë's head spun. Now that she could take the revenge she had so often prayed for, fear mastered her… it felt like the worst disgrace, but thinking of Eärwen's beloved face, she was frightened.

She considered retreating to her studio - fabrics and sewing supplies would keep her mind and fingers occupied, but she worked best with company, and it would not be fair - neither to Eärwen, nor to the small circle of Telerin couturiers she had befriended in Alqualondë - to discuss the tidings before a decision had been reached. 

She had pleaded what she could, to Uinen and Eärwen herself. She could do no more; it would have to be enough. She could not sway the council, having neither seat nor voice, being a Noldo and subject to Arafinwë by birth and chosen kinship, if no longer by heart. But she held power where the Council did not. Perhaps she had swayed Eärwen, at least. 

Steps clattered through the corridor outside, swiftly growing nearer, and the door flew open with no break in Eärwen's step, or that of the two court officials dogging her heels, a woman and a man whose court robes dragged through the sea water on the tiles. Anairë stood half-hidden by the bed drapings while they rushed past, out onto the balcony, without seeing her. In passing, Anairë saw the red chafe-marks on Eärwen's temples, left there by the swan-crown she was no longer wearing - whether she had lost it in the rush from the council chamber, or flung it aside in frustrated defeat - Anairë could not say. 

Eärwen's raised voice bounded sharply off the chamber walls. 

"... not disavow our decision, our people have ever been constant in heart and purpose! The misery of the Noldor across the sea is their own lot, not ours, and even if King Arafinwë will send aid, I - _we_ are not beholden to his whims! We would not harden our heart so if they had not laid Alpalondë into ruin with the slaughter of our family and the rape of our ships!" 

The second time, Anairë's head spun as the words sank in. This time it was relief that made her dizzy, and her fingers curled around the ornaments in the wood to keep her body upright as her legs gave. 

She had erred, she had misjudged, she had done Eärwen an injustice.

How thoroughly Noldorin of her. 

Eärwen had backed into a corner of the balcony away from the stair, and it reminded Anairë of nothing so much as her years after the Darkening before she fled to Alqualondë from the pressure of the court of Tirion, who had delighted in mocking, humiliating and shouting down both her and Nerdanel for their… contributions, as they called their families, to the rebellion of the Noldor. 

The woman began to plead. "But will you not reconsider? The Noldor are in need - my husband lives still across the sea, and then as now, unless you would have the Valar un-root another island to crawl across the sea to ferry the armies to the other shore, we depend on the ships! Whether not we go to war - if we are to heal, will you not let go of this grief and forgive them?" 

"Forget and leave her, Paltallë," the man said to his companion, and he, unlike her, was snarling with rage. "The only need of the Noldor that our Queen will attend to is that of the bedroom, and -"

Eärwen cut him off. "Enough. We have a daughter across the sea who also still lives." There was a hiss in her voice. "And yet - it is true that we are not unhappy with the decision of the Council. Our people have not forgotten the griefs they were dealt, and if they will not go to war, then we cannot nor will attempt to move them to do so. But it is no more selfish than Patallë's pleading, or yours, unless you would claim that your husbands are not the chief objects of both your thoughts, more than the Noldor as a whole. But if you would go to war for their sakes, we will not restrain you - and we know that you both have ships." She turned to Paltallë. "How many?" 

"Nine," answered Paltallë, meekly. She drew back when Eärwen took a step forward. "Five for fishing, and four that are my own and my daughters'." 

She turned to the man, whose eyebrow rose. "Twenty," he said at last. "And fifteen more on Eressëa with my sister. But it is a fishing fleet with only one ship for my own use, and the crews depend on them to keep -"

"Ah, yes. But you expect _us_ to seize the ships of our people against their wills and make ourself no better than the ones who betrayed their trust and friendship?" 

Her words met a wall of uncomfortable silence. Although Eärwen's eyes had gone steely grey from their usual sea-bright silver, her lips drew into a small, grim smile at last, and when she looked up to find Anairë watching, the harsh set of her mouth softened a little; a small, private admission of partial defeat between the two of them. Anairë's heart throbbed painfully through the lightheadedness, and she willed a return of the cold and numbness the sea had brought.

"Then we think we have our answer. Forty-four ships for the purpose of war - more, if you find others to join your efforts, although as of yet we give no blessing, only this word of advice: Speak with the lady Elwing again. She has suffered under the Sons of Fëanáro twice as much as we have and came to us on the wings of tragedy, and yet pleads aid for all of them. You may find a kinder ear and more aid from her than us." 

Eärwen paused, tilting her head in consideration as a gull wheeled past the balcony, and something subtle shifted in the play of light on her face as her muscles relaxed and she struck a kinder tone. "I would be lying if I claimed it left me unmoved, and I deem she is no less a messenger, with no lesser purpose, than her husband, so if she achieves to sway more hearts - then I shall reconsider and reconvene the council for another decision. You are dismissed," Eärwen said to the two officials. "Come to me again when you have results." 

They filed out of the chambers. Eärwen remained on the balcony, and when the door shut behind the two of them, the strength seemed to be going out of her. She sat heavily on the edge of the carved balustrade and braced her feet against the stone, reaching out for Anairë and beckoning her closer.

"Dear heart," Anairë murmured as she came and stood between Eärwen's legs. "Whenever I think you cannot astound me more, you do. You have done them a kindness they do not deserve, after hounding you so, and on a matter that was already decided." She sank to her knees before the waist-high balustrade and rested her cheek against Eärwen's leg, relishing the warmth of her skin through the sheer, sea-green fabric of Eärwen's slitted skirt. It was not often, these days, that Eärwen still had to prove the authority, rather than the ceremony, that came with queenship, and it was less often still Anairë was present to see it. 

Eärwen shivered against her. "You should not have been privy to that," she answered softly. "I did not want for you to witness what ugliness was spoken at the Council today; what they said was hardly the worst. Tempers were running high, and many agree with you and what you said to me this morning. The prospect of war excites some and frightens them all, and me also, and I do not believe that many of our people will want to fight - but Paltallë was not wrong saying that all _will_ depend on us. If they are successful in bringing the people to their side we yet have room to negotiate, and we may even bring some grace to the Noldor in doing this. Perhaps... " her voice hitched when Anairë stroked her hand up Eärwen's leg to linger above the fabric over her knee. "... if we take them across, but then stay out at sea, protected, and do not fight unless it is at last need… my people will not be considered the fearful, faithless friends in the History of the Eldar in the greatest war they will ever wage… love, I…" 

"I need no protecting. Hush now," Anairë murmured over the flutter in her stomach. She was afraid, still, but Eärwen's being momentarily flustered out of speech by her attentions never left her unaffected, and that moment was not one she wanted to associate with fear by paying it any more heed than she was already doing. In spite of herself Anairë continued with a smile, following with her lips where her fingers had touched. Her hand slipped inside Eärwen's skirt to stroke further upward, and Eärwen's legs fell open in response. "Let us not talk of war now, let me help you unwind."

Eärwen sighed, but it was not an unhappy sound; she slipped one leg over Anairë's shoulder and kicked off the sandal from her foot. "You still do not know what sway you hold over me, and I did not know defeat could hold such unexpected pleasures," she said, drawing Anairë close with her bare foot between her shoulders. 

"I am only beginning," Anairë answered, and heard Eärwen's breath catch as she stroked her hand in circles over Eärwen's stomach. "And I do not think you suffered a defeat, dear heart. It is a compromise, albeit not without bitterness. I shall sweeten it for you. Perhaps I shall even sway you entirely." 

She glanced up at Eärwen and saw her lips open in expectation, tempted to rise and kiss her, but Eärwen's other, sandalled, foot, fell on her shoulder and kept her in place. A breath of soft surprise escaped her, and where it brushed the inside of Eärwen's thigh, she shivered in response. 

"That is how it is today?" Anairë asked in a low voice. She had hoped to set Eärwen writhing - and still might - but she knew her wife when one of her moods struck her, relentlessly bent on her own pleasure first of all. And she already had Anairë - fully willingly - on her knees before her. 

A moment passed silently between them, looking at each other. Then Eärwen's hands threaded into the lengths of Anairë's wet hair, and the fingers of both her hands tangled behind the back of Anairë's head, pulling her forward. 

The day was repeating, Anairë thought with a laugh as she pushed apart the layers of skirt and cloth that kept her from her desire, and leaned in to put her tongue to use - again on her knees, again with the taste of salt thick in her mouth, again with her heart racing, if no longer in abject terror. 

If she was going to plead this time, she thought as Eärwen's bare toes curled against her spine, and Eärwen gave a first, delighted gasp, rising like a wave above Anairë, then with far better arguments than mere words.


End file.
